


I Got a Love Bug

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Harry is sick, M/M, brief brief mention of louis having an eating disorder at the very end, but louis is a little sad, harry is louis' baby, harry is very very adorable in this, it's mostly fluffy, louis is insecure, the argument is resolved very quickly, there is angst but it's not horrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 19:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12515032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Harry comes down with a stomach bug and Louis has a lot of feelings.





	I Got a Love Bug

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this is bye

“Lou, Lou baby, I need you,” Harry whines, lightly shaking his boyfriend’s shoulder.

His uncharacteristically squeaky voice is the only sound in the otherwise silent room. It’s night, well more accurately, some early morning hour that Harry is not fully aware of. The specifics don’t matter. It’s dark, it’s quiet, it’s lonely, and Harry doesn’t feel well. He wants Louis.

Louis doesn’t stir and Harry groans. His stomach is churning, and he feels like he’s sweating all over. He feels bad for trying to wake up his sleeping boyfriend, because Louis just got back to LA from London earlier that evening and is exhausted and jetlagged. But the thing is, they have just barely managed the two week rule this time. He’s been without Louis for thirteen whole days and he had been happy to just get in bed with him and sleep, knowing that he’d have Louis’ full attention the next day when he was a little more well rested. But now he can’t sleep and he feels really sick and the boy that he loves and has gone so long without is finally beside him, and he just can’t resist the urge to be comforted by him, as selfish as it is.

“Louis,” Harry tries again, wiggling himself on top of the smaller boy’s chest, “can you please wake up for me?”

“M’sleeping.”

Well, at least he had gotten a little reaction out of Louis that time.

“Looouuuuuuuiiiiiiiiiiiiiis. Baby please.”

“What is it, love?”

“I don’t-

Before Harry can finish the phrase “I don’t feel good,” the inevitable overcomes him and Harry gags into his hand. Not wanting to get sick all over their bed, Harry jumps off Louis and stumbles into their bathroom. He flips up the lid to the toilet and kneels down, tears pooling in his eyes before anything can even come up. Harry hates throwing up.

Louis is still in the process of waking up, so he doesn’t realize what’s going on until he hears retching and crying coming from the bathroom.

Oh. That’s why Harry wanted him to wake up.

“It’s alright. I’m here now, love. You’re alright. I’m sorry I didn’t wake up sooner,” he coos, kneeling down beside his ill boyfriend and rubbing circles on his back.

“Lou, make it stop,” Harry whimpers, and it’s one of those moments when Louis can practically feel his heart break.

“You know I would if I could, baby. Just breathe, Harry. It won’t last forever.”

Eventually, it does pass, and Harry leans back so that he’s against Louis’ chest. Louis takes the hint and wraps his arms around the taller boy, giving him a moment to catch his breath before he speaks to him.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Not very long. I woke up feeling really queasy and I just… wanted you. Sorry for waking you up.”

“Hey, shush. No apologies, Curly. I’d much rather be up with you than you have be miserable and all alone in the middle of the night, you know that.” 

“You’re too good to me, Lou.”

“Nope, I’m just good enough to you. You’re my baby, Harry.”

“I’m 23, Louis.”

“And your point is? You’re still my baby and you’re sick and I’m going to take care of you. End of story.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too. How’s your tummy feeling now?”

“Little better now that I threw up but still not good,” Harry moans, wriggling around in Louis’ arms to illustrate his discomfort.

“Oh honey,” Louis says gently, “you poor thing. Do you want to try some tea or are you thinking that would just come right back up?”

“Tea, please?”

“Of course. Anything for you, darling. Go get back in bed and I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

Harry lies in bed as he wonders who he could’ve gotten sick from. It’s the middle of the summer, so the stomach flu isn’t exactly going around. But he’s Harry, and his immune system hates him, so of course he’s got a stomach bug in July. Or maybe he just ate something that didn’t agree with him. He has a notoriously fussy stomach, so it’s within the realm of possibility. He quickly banishes that thought from his mind, because if he thinks about food for one second longer he’s going to throw up all over the sparkly golden comforter that Louis only agreed to sleep with because he loves him.

Louis comes back with a hot cup of peppermint tea and a bucket that he gingerly places beside their bed, because he’s not entirely sure Harry’s done expelling the contents of his stomach for the night. He helps prop Harry up with pillows and hands him his tea before walking to the other side of the bed and sliding in beside Harry.

“Hi,” Harry says quietly, looking up at Louis with those tired but brilliant green eyes.

“Hello, love. Miss me?”

“Yes,” Harry says simply, and the sincerity sort of takes Louis’ breath away. Louis knows Harry loves him. They’ve been together for years, but every now and then Harry metaphorically knocks Louis off his feet with the sheer level of adoration he has for him. Harry is so pure at heart, so unashamedly devoted, that Louis really doesn’t know what he did to deserve him. He has a harder time letting his guard down than Harry does, has a harder time of fully opening himself up, and he can’t help but feel bad about it sometimes. The years of abuse and belittlement from Syco have taken their toll on him, and he knows it’s been hard on Harry as well, but Harry’s always been a little better at not internalizing it. And really, Louis was more specifically targeted, so it makes sense, and he knows that Harry doesn’t blame him for it. But there are moments like this, when Harry isn’t feeling well and is just allowing himself to be so completely vulnerable for him in a way that Louis probably couldn’t do in return, that Louis feels guilty.

“Whatcha thinking about?” 

“Hmm?” Louis asks, feigning confusion, because now is the not the time for that conversation.

“You were a world away, boo. What’s on your mind?” 

“S’nothing important. Drink your tea, Curly.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Harry. I just told you it was nothing important.”

“If it was nothing important, you’d tell me,” Harry says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but you’re deflecting, so you must be upset. You always do that when you’re upset.”

Louis winces, because ouch, Harry just (unintentionally) rubbed salt into the wound. He bites his lip, unsure of how to proceed. He really, really doesn’t want to talk about it, but that’s sort of the problem, isn’t it? That Harry is much better at talking about things, and Louis is a chronic feelings burier.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, Lou? I’m confused.”

“It’s just… you know that I love you, right?”

“Of course I do,” Harry pretty much yells, looking offended and Louis wants to pull their comforter over his head so he doesn’t have to deal with the can of worms he’s just opened.

“Good.”

“Louis, I need you to tell me what’s going on in your head right now. You’re worrying me.”

“I’m fine, love. Don’t worry about me, alright? You’re the one who’s sick.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Deflecting,” Harry growls, “I know you’re not fine so why don’t you just save us both the time and just tell me what’s going on? I’ve got a stomachache, I’m not dying. I think I can handle having a conversation about whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

“Harry,” Louis says desperately, “not now, please.”

“If not now then when? You never want to talk about anything.”

And again, Harry doesn’t know that he is hitting Louis exactly where it hurts, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. And Louis also knows that while Harry would likely be frustrated under normal circumstances, the unusual harshness is because Harry isn’t feeling well. He knows both of those things. But it doesn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears and his lower lip from wobbling, neither of which go unnoticed by Harry, who is immediately apologetic.

“Louis, baby, I’m so sorry. That was harsh. I just get worried about you sometimes and I don’t feel good, but that’s no excuse. Please don’t cry. Louis, I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s fine, Curly. It’s the truth,” he sniffles, knowing he has to get out of the room before he starts outright sobbing. It’s just going to make Harry feel horribly guilty to see him cry, and that’s the last thing he wants when Harry is already feeling ill.

“No, Louis, it isn’t. Baby, I’m-

“I’ll be right back, okay? I just need a minute.”

He can hear Harry protesting, shouting out his name, but Louis is out of their bed and then out of their room as quickly as his legs can carry him. Harry can probably hear him crying as he makes his way down the hallway, but he can’t hold it in any longer. He hops down the staircase and directs himself toward their living room couch, which he promptly collapses on, his body shaking with sobs.

Harry deserves better, he thinks to himself, wrapping his arms around his petite frame.

He’s getting tired of you. He’s going to leave.

“I counted to sixty.”

He startles at that, wiping his eyes. He must have been crying so hard that he didn’t hear Harry coming down the stairs.

“What was that?”

“You said that you needed a minute, so I counted to sixty.”

Louis sighs, because Harry Styles just might be the single most endearing person on the planet. In fact, he most definitely is. 

“I know that’s not what you meant,” he continues nervously, “but I heard you crying and I knew it was my fault and I just couldn’t stay away from you, I’m sorry.”

Louis turns to face Harry now that he’s mostly gotten his crying under control, and frowns when he sees that he’s pale and has an arm wrapped around his stomach.

“It’s alright, love. But you should be in bed, you’re sick.”

“And you should be in bed with me. I’m sorry I’m such a jerk.”

“You’re not a jerk, Haz. You just sort of… accidentally hit a sensitive spot, is all.”

“What do you mean?”

Louis looks down at his hands for a minute, trying to think of how to phrase it. He’s good with words; he’s a great lyricist, and he always does well in interviews, but words seem to fail him in situations like these. It’s not that he doesn’t know what to say, it’s just that he feels like he can’t say it. His mouth runs dry and his heart hammers in his chest, all of his muscles clenching up. In the end, all that comes tumbling out of his mouth is “you’re not going to leave me, right?”

Harry’s eyes widen in horror and he opens his mouth to speak before quickly slapping a hand over it, and Louis is on his feet immediately, knowing exactly what is coming next. 

“You’re okay, love,” Louis coos, guiding Harry over to their kitchen sink, knowing that the bathroom is too far away.

“I’m so s-sorry,” Harry chokes out, heaving with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Shh. Don’t apologize for being ill, Harry. It’s not your fault.”

“No-

Harry is cut off by another overwhelming urge to puke, and Louis sighs as he rubs his back. 

“Don’t try to talk, baby. Just breathe, okay?”

“I’m s-so sorry, L-Lou. Didn’t m-mean to m-make you feel…”

“Shh, I know, Curly. We’ll talk about that in a minute. You didn’t do anything wrong. But you need to calm down, okay? You’re making yourself more sick.”

“L-Louis…. I c-can’t…

“You’re alright, Harry. You’re alright, I promise. You’re just panicking. You’re okay. Just breathe through your nose.”

Harry’s breathing is still ragged and is still being interrupted by the need to throw up, and Louis doesn’t really know what do. Yes, Harry hates throwing up. Yes, Harry gets sick quite often. So Louis is used to caring for Harry when he’s puking and upset, but Louis has never seen it be this bad before.

He just had to freak him out by asking him if he wanted to leave him, didn’t he?

“Baby, baby shhh. Harry, please. Calm down, love. Everything is okay.”

 

Slowly but surely, Harry’s breathing evens out and he cautiously leans back from being crouched over the sink. Louis keeps rubbing his back and whispering reassuring words to him, and after about a minute or so, Harry visibly relaxes.

“Do you think you’re done, love?”

“Yeah, I think I’m good. I’m sorry, Lou. That was… bad.”

“It’s okay, baby. Scared me a little bit, but it’s alright.”

“M’not going to leave you.”

“I know,” Louis says, even though he doesn’t really feel like he knows for sure, “let’s go lie down, okay? We’ll talk, but I don’t want you on your feet right now.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Harry murmurs as Louis helps up the stairs.

“I don’t have to tell you what, Haz?”

“Whatever it is that’s bothering you. I’m sorry if I pushed too hard. I just love you a lot and don’t want you to be sad.”

Louis can tell that Harry is exhausted from the combined puking session and panic attack; he can hear it in his voice and see it in his droopy eyelids. It makes his chest feel that much warmer as he ponders how much he loves the silly, clumsy boy he’s tucking into bed. It’s also making Harry even more unfiltered than usual.

“Oh shh, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong. I overreacted, love.”

“No, I was mean and I made you cry. I’m sorry. I hate it when you cry.”

“Hazza baby, you snapped at me because I was being frustrating and because you’re ill. It’s okay. It happens.”

“Still. I’m sorry. And m’not gonna leave you. Ever. Why would you even think that?”

“It’s nothing you did,” Louis assures him, “I just… get insecure sometimes, you know? You’re so open and honest with me about your feelings, and I have a hard time doing the same thing for you. And I was feeling bad about that, that’s what I was thinking about when you asked, love. And then you got upset with me, and rightfully so, for the same thing I was feeling guilty about, and I just freaked out a little bit. I just got all these bad thoughts in my head about how I didn’t deserve you and I needed a minute. But I’m good now, okay? And you need to sleep.”

“M’sorry. M’sorry, Lou, I didn’t know.”

“I know. I know, baby. Everything’s all good now.”

“You do deserve me. You take such good care of me and I love you so much. And it’s okay… I know it’s harder for you to open up sometimes, and that’s okay. I love you, Lou, and all your little things.”

“Are you quoting little things at me, Harry?”

“I know you’ve never loved the sound of your voice on tape…”

“Oh my god,” Louis snorts, because Harry is mostly unconscious and somewhere between talking and singing and is barely coherent.

“You never want to know how much you weigh… you never do. But that’s okay because weight is stupid. You’re perfect. So, so perfect. I worry about you, you know? When it comes to that… you’re eating enough these days, right baby?”

Louis flinches, because that’s another sensitive area that they really do not need to venture in to tonight.

“Yes, I’m good. I’m good, I promise you, baby. Harry, you need to stop trying to serenade me and you need to go to sleep, okay? I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re okay. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Harry sleepily slurs his way through some more of little things, before finally falling fully asleep during Niall’s part. Louis wishes he got the whole thing on camera, well, minus the inquiry about his eating habits, but other than that it really was quite adorable. Louis hums the rest of the song, gently running his fingers through the other boy’s curls. He’s a little afraid to close his own eyes and fall asleep, because Harry could wake up sick and needing him at any moment. But having Harry cuddled up on top of him (he’s clingy when he’s sick) and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest relaxes him, and he soon finds himself breathing in time with his boyfriend.

He falls asleep feeling thankful. Thankful that he gets to do life with the curly haired boy whose skin is a little too warm against his, even on nights like this. Even when Harry is sick and Louis is up and they argue, he’s still thankful for it.

He falls asleep knowing that he’s the luckiest man on earth.


End file.
